


Fist Fighting With Fire

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Violence, M/M, Realization, Resolved Arguments, implied non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: During a mission, Napoleon gets taken and interrogated in unlikely ways but Illya arrives just in time before things could get worse. The aftermath of Napoleon’s ordeal, however, tests Illya’s resolve and what he truly feels for his partner.





	Fist Fighting With Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [My Tumblr entry](https://el3anorrigbyworld.tumblr.com/post/169993628029/what-if-during-a-mission-napoleon-gets-taken-and).

i.

In Rio, Napoleon and Illya lead a separate team of agents to infiltrate a drug lord’s premise after receiving a trusted tip-off from an informant after months of surveillance. Everything goes according to plan as they raid the area; an abandoned site hosting a few warehouses, but Napoleon is unfortunately caught while escaping and Illya only learns of his partner’s fate after returning to their makeshift headquarters with his team. 

He proceeds to destroy everything he could lay his hands on and groans aloud knowing that even if he let his rage rip apart the entire place, there isn’t anything else that he could do but wait until Waverly gives him the go-ahead to go rescue his partner.

“You need to calm down, Kuryakin. This isn’t helping the matter, in fact, you’re making it worse.”

Illya couldn’t answer Waverly even if he wants to lash out. He can’t seem to make his throat work. 

So he duly does as he is told but the agony of waiting is too much for Illya. Not only is Napoleon in danger, but the idea that their mission is already a success and UNCLE had gotten what they needed makes Illya sick to the stomach. They had come for the drugs and they had gotten it. Technically, Waverly could order them to leave the place without having to save their missing agent. Technically, they don’t have to go back for the American.

But Illya isn’t even going to let Waverly entertain the idea. He would put a gun to the man’s head if it ever comes to that.

Thankfully, Illya needn’t need to resort to such extremes because, after an anxious wait, he finally gets the all clear from the Brit to get his partner back, and he is out the door in a matter of seconds without waiting for further instructions while Waverly frantically barks orders to a few waiting agents to follow suit.

 

ii.

Even in Napoleon’s befuddled state, he knows he had been drugged. By the time he’d felt that prickled sting at the back of his neck while teetering his way through the corridors of the building after he’d gotten separated from his men, it was too late for him to react and alert his team. He hadn’t the chance to radio Illya as well. 

And now, there is nothing he could do about his predicament. 

His captor half-carries, half-pulls his stumbling form into a back room of the abandoned building, and as they pass through a door, Napoleon manages to grab hold of something solid, perhaps grappled on the wall to prop himself steady for a moment, swaying gently. But hands are soon on him, their touches thoroughly unwanted. Napoleon tries to get away but it is to no avail. Eventually, he falls forward, unable to stand unaided any longer. But he is caught again in a strong hold and helped across the small room where he is sat heavily on a bunk situated against the back wall. 

Napoleon groans. 

He feels his shirt being opened and slipped off as the man on him holds him steady with one hand on his shoulder as he works the garment down Napoleon’s arms before dropping it on the floor. Then he hears voices. Later, a person sits down at his side and pulls Napoleon towards him, turning sideways to face Napoleon, letting Napoleon’s head fall on his shoulder. But soon after, the man’s fingers are gripping his hair and yanking his head back in one swift motion, making Napoleon gasp and he sniggers.

Through the haze in his mind, Napoleon recognises him as Phillippe, one of the leaders of the drug cartel targeted by UNCLE. But how did he get away? He was supposed to have been captured weeks ago by the local authorities. Had there been bad intel on UNCLE’s part? Napoleon tries hard to think but clearly he is in no state of mind to do so. 

“ _You_ ,” Phillippe’s low voice whispers in his ear, one cold hand gripping his jaw, “you are going to tell me who you work for and exactly where your boss intends to take my goods. And while we’re at it, we are also going to have a little bit of fun with you.”

Napoleon isn’t unconscious, but even raising his hand to protest is impossible. Everything feels so heavy. He could just about tell what Phillippe is doing now, what he is about to do to him when his arms are pulled behind his back by another set of hands and a rope is secured tightly around his wrists. Then Phillippe produces a knife, while his vile hands snake lower where they really should not. 

Napoleon squirms.

“No,” he murmurs but the man shushes him and everything is all mixed up in a blurred confusion of soft noise and pale light before he passes out.

 

iii.

 

Scaling the area again is easy. Because Illya has memorised everything in his head. But what makes it difficult for him is the idea of finding Napoleon in a state he rather not. Telling himself to focus, Illya proceeds with caution despite the terror seizing his heart. He has got to trust his instincts that Napoleon would be fine. 

He is advancing forward along a darkened corridor when he hears it.

A soft, cut off groan that is unmistakably Napoleon. It made Illya’s heart lurch as he stops in his tracks and the fingers on his rifle tightened. 

The door in front of him is closed but he is certain his partner with the people holding him captive are behind it. He considers his move for a moment because he doesn’t want to do anything that might put Napoleon’s life in further danger. But when he hears it again, Napoleon’s pained moan, Illya only sees red. 

Not thinking further, he barges through the door and cocks his rifle at the sight before him, and he almost freezes at what he is seeing. 

A big burly man has Napoleon lying against his chest, head lolled back on his shoulder. The man’s arms are around Napoleon’s neck in a loose chokehold, while another of his captors is at his front, a hand on his partner’s hip. A knife is trained on Napoleon’s cheek. And Napoleon, _oh God_ , Napoleon is almost naked except for his tattered pants and he is half conscious it seemed, wrists tied behind his back and his bare skin shining with sweat, eyes glassy and half opened. There is a bloodied gash on one side of his temple, a long cut across his clavicle and another vertical cut that starts from his right pectoral straight down his abdomen. Bright, crimson red trickles down his torso.

It might have been a mere second, but Illya’s eyes had taken in every detail and all he could think of then is _‘They’ve cut him. They’ve hurt him’_. The words rage in his head over and over.

And he snaps. 

The red mist immediately descends over him and he does not even need to think twice. 

When Napoleon’s startled captors move to stand, Illya shoots them in the head without hesitance. Without any remorse. And then he shoots the dead bodies again, before falling to his knees in front of Napoleon. 

 

iv.

 

After hours of waiting, Napoleon finally emerges from his room. 

Back at their safehouse again, the two agents have been ordered by Waverly to stay behind until UNCLE’s extraction team return to take them home the next morning. Illya’s trail of destruction while trying to save Napoleon had been quite unsightly and UNCLE had been ordered to clear the mess, to dispose of the bodies and all other incriminating evidence before they’re cleared to return to London. Waverly had been calm despite everything that had happened, and Illya’s grateful for it. But his immediate concern is Napoleon and now as he sits there in front of him, Illya tries again what he had failed to do earlier.

_Let me help you._

_No. I can do this myself. I’m fine._

_Cowboy, please…_

_No, Illya. I’m fine. Let’s just get out from here._

Napoleon had refused his help. And he had refused to look at him at all.

Now, alone together in the room, a heavy silence falls between the two men.

Illya recalls when he had helped Napoleon into their car after his harrowing ordeal. Neither men had spoken a word the entire ride, and when Illya had tried to bring the matter up, all he had gotten was ‘Please, Peril. I don’t want to talk about it.’ 

And Illya had left it at that.

“Cowboy,” Illya starts again without waiting for Napoleon to say anything this time. “Are you...okay? How are you...how are you feeling?”

Napoleon’s flesh wounds have been treated by UNCLE’s medics; all cleaned, stitched and bandaged, but the ones that Illya can’t see is what worries him the most. The psychological damage of what those men had done.

“Napoleon, are you all right?”

A pause. Illya knows Napoleon doesn’t want to do this, but Illya himself will go crazy if he does not address the situation. 

“Please, talk to me.”

Napoleon lets out a sigh. He hunches over for a bit in his seat, grimaces at the pain of his wounds, and Illya swears he could see him tremble. He wants so bad to reach out and put his arms around Napoleon but recalling how Napoleon had flinched when he had done it while making their escape earlier, Illya decides otherwise. He waits, bides his time, and then when he thinks Napoleon is going to leave and disappear into his room again, the American breaks his silence.

“You shot them.”

Illya frowns at him. Is that all Napoleon could think of? Is that what he is concerned about? That he had killed those men that deserved to die? 

“They did not give me a choice,” Illya answers, voice flat as he tries his best to stay calm because Napoleon is now pushing his buttons.

“I was half conscious but I’m aware of what you’d done.”

“The mission report will say it is done on self-defense. Will not matter.”

“By shooting dead bodies? You’re lucky Waverly’s letting the matter go. You could get into a lot of trouble for your effort.”

“I do not care.”

Napoleon’s mouth twists. The way Illya enunciates his every word, the realness in Illya’s voice that he doesn’t think his position in UNCLE is any more important than Napoleon’s own safety churns something in him that he has not felt before. But does he deserve it? Does he deserve what he thinks Illya is trying to give him? 

“Peril, they didn’t…” Napoleon pauses then adds in a pained voice, “they hadn’t done anything to me if you think that…”

“They would have,” Illya argues but Napoleon cuts him off.

“They’re sadists. They’d cut me for information but that was all. They are not…”

“ _No!_ They would have if I had been late!”

It’s Illya’s turn to interrupt this time. 

He is sorry he had raised his voice at Napoleon but he isn’t sorry that he had killed those men in cold blood. He had been angry. So angry. And that anger is now bubbling up to the surface once more. Those men deserve to die a thousand deaths for what they had done to Napoleon. Suddenly what he had seen flits back into his mind; Napoleon half-naked and drugged and being held and suddenly he cannot erase the image from his head.

Illya sucks in a breath.

“Solo…did they…?”

 _Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?_

Illya’s gut churns. He could not say what was on his mind but Napoleon understands it straightaway.

“No, Peril. You are insinuating something that did not even happen,” Napoleon stubbornly argues but Illya is not going to let Napoleon have his way. He wills himself to try again. 

“Napoleon. Look at me. _Talk_ to me.”

Finally, Napoleon looks up, and for the first time that night, their eyes really meet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he isn’t sure what he is apologising for. He gets up on his feet and this time he does disappear again into his room much to Illya’s frustration.

 

v.

 

Waverly gives them four weeks leave after the incident in Rio. 

And Illya does not bring the matter up again with Napoleon. 

They go their separate ways while on their break, but Illya tries hard to keep in contact with his partner. Napoleon, however, keeps avoiding him and Illya does not know how to deal with the situation any longer. Gaby says they need to talk, but how can Illya do it if Napoleon does not want to confront the matter?

“He is avoiding me.”

“Give him some time, Illya.”

“It’s been three weeks. We barely speak a word to each other. Every time I call him, he says he is busy. I ask him for lunch or dinner and he says he has plans when I know he sits in his apartment alone doing nothing.”

Illya laments this every day to Gaby and all Gaby can do is listen to Illya’s rant. She knows there is nothing they can do, not until Napoleon is ready to open up. But Illya has had enough and one day, he follows Napoleon when he sees him leaving his apartment. Napoleon tries to give him the slip when he notices Illya’s presence but in no time at all Illya catches up to him and corners him in an alleyway, not a few blocks from where Napoleon had started to run.

“Peril, what do you want?” 

“We go to work next week. And I cannot work with you if you keep avoiding me like this. If you do not talk to me.”

Napoleon doesn’t react to Illya’s words. He stays motionless, almost too calm. Then he gives him a careless shrug. “You can ask for a change of partner if you want to. Maybe that’s what you need to do.”

When he tries to leave, Illya grabs him by his sleeve only for Napoleon to twist in his hold before shoving him away hard. Illya retaliates by shoving him right back, surprising the American.

“No, you’re not doing this. You are not running away from me again. Not this time,” Illya snaps despite the startled look on Napoleon’s face. 

Napoleon is breathing hard, eyes wide on the Russian. He wants to wheel around and push him away again, but he can’t. Not with those blue eyes staring daggers at him. Not with Illya’s conflicted look that is threatening to overcome everything that he is feeling. He looks away for a moment, jaws clenching and fingers running through his hair. He stares at the empty alleyway ahead of them, at the ground, and then back at Illya. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Then, defeated, he staggers back and leans heavily against the brick wall behind him. 

Napoleon closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he finally mutters, repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, you didn’t do anything wrong, Cowboy.”

Illya’s much gentler this time, his tone encouraging. “Do not shut me out.”

When Napoleon opens his eyes again, Illya is eyeing him with a searching look. He looks like he wants to cut him open and wound him, make him bleed for him and only him to see. He wants him to bare everything, wants him to share that excruciating pain he has been trying to hide from him. He sees this in Illya and Napoleon decides there is no point in holding back any longer.

“Peril, I am sorry,” Napoleon says again, voice hoarse. In truth, he’s tired of running too, tired of running from Illya, avoiding that imminent confrontation that had threatened to blow over ever since that night in Rio. 

“No, I’m the one that is sorry, because I had let them take you, Cowboy. It’s my fault. If I had been late. If something had happened to you, I will never forgive myself. _Never_.”

Illya’s sudden confession catches Napoleon off guard. He had been too focused on his own worries and confusion that he had not stopped to think what Illya had been through.

How it had affected him as well.

“Illya, it’s not your fault,” he says softly. “You’d stopped them. You’d saved me. Like you’d done countless times before. And I’m so grateful for that, you have to know this.”

“Illya,” Napoleon calls his name again when the Russian remains silent, and this time, he is much closer to his partner. But it is Illya who had closed the gap between them. Napoleon shuts his eyes when Illya touches him, the first time he had done so since that night, and this time he does not flinch, does not try to get away, and a breath later, Napoleon is leaning his forehead on Illya’s shoulder. He is trembling as Illya’s arms encircle him in a tight grip.

“I’m sorry,” Illya murmurs in Napoleon’s ear, and even if Napoleon knows Illya isn’t to be blamed for everything that had befallen him, and he had made it perfectly clear not a few moments ago, he just nods and finally lets go as he shakily clings to the Russian, clings to him like he is afraid he will fall if he were to let go. 

 

vi.

 

They are due for work again after their long lay off and Waverly expects them to be in his office for a briefing with Gaby that morning. While he waits for Napoleon to get ready, Illya gazes out at the gray skies from Napoleon’s apartment as he stands there by his window, gets a little lost in his thoughts until Napoleon’s voice pulls him out of his reverie.

“Are you ready, Peril?”

Illya turns and his heart stutters at what he sees. 

Napoleon is wearing his favourite dark blue bespoke suit. His dark hair is neatly in place, but Illya sees there are still little unruly curls at his temples and he is so tempted to smooth it with his fingers. Except for that healing wound visible to the naked eye on one side of his face, there are no other obvious signs that this man had gone through a whole lot the past month or so. Napoleon looks so fresh and ready and Illya suddenly feels a tight ache in his chest for the man before him. His eyes wander to that sharp jaw, his mouth, and then back to his eyes. Those beautiful, bright blue eyes that hides so much. But Illya sees everything because Napoleon doesn’t wear his mask when he is with him. He doesn’t need one, especially after Rio.

“Illya? You okay? Are you ready?”

How can Napoleon ask him this when it should be him asking those questions? But not wanting anything to spoil their day, he decides to let that slide and simply nods at him.

“Yes,” he says when he eventually finds his voice, then asks, “are you?”

Napoleon nods. And smiles. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

And Illya leads him out, and for the rest of the day he never lets Napoleon out of his sight, knows deep inside he will do pretty much anything to keep Napoleon safe. 

And that is his vow. 

That is what he tells himself. 

What he doesn’t acknowledge is the fact that he is slowly falling for Napoleon. Maybe, he always has right from the start. But that is a different story altogether. There will be a time for that in the near future. For him to confront his feelings. 

But for now, he is just contented to have Napoleon by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of Napoleon's ordeal while in captivity is implied but nothing too graphic.


End file.
